Family Before All
by AndromedaeStarStorm69
Summary: Storm has been the turtles' 'normal human' sister since before any of them can actually remember. What happens when she is captured by the enemy and turned into something not-so-normal? What happens when the family is placed in jeopardy? Rated T for mild language and violence.
1. Oh, Wonderful!

My second attempt at a Ninja Turtles fanfic. Basically, I'm procrastinating because I'm getting no reviews for my Game of Thrones fanfic. Mostly told from the point of view of my OC, Storm Hamato. Enjoy. I don't own Divergent or TMNT. Please review.

**Chapter One**

_Storm_

_Crash. CRASH. __**CRASH.**_ This is basically how the day starts when you've got four adolescent mutant turtles for brothers.

I groaned. Just what I needed on the last day of finals; to be cleaning up the latest casualty of Mikey's war on glasses at seven A.M. At least it was near the time I usually got up rather than three in the morning. "_Get back here_!" Great!

I tumbled out of bed; my blue and green striped hair mussed up from sleep, and padded to the kitchen to examine the extent of the destruction. "Morning, Storm," Raph greeted, holding Mikey in a headlock. Glass was more or less all over the floor. I folded my arms grumpily and gave the two of them my worst look.

"You're cleaning that up," I scowled. "I have Math finals today, and this year is really important! I can't be late." I had to edge around the mess to grab a banana. Mikey struggled out from under Raph's forearm and rubbed his neck.

"No fair, Raph started it," he complained. Worst look shifted to basilisk glare.

"I don't care who started it, but there is broken _glass _all over the floor and I do not have time to clean up after you two today! Seriously, I'm considering replacing the glasses with plastic cups, because that's the fifth one this month! Now clean it up or I'll make you clean it up. You guys aren't the only ones who know ninjitsu." I went back into the room I would usually share with Donny and Leo, but both of them were in the dojo training already. You may be asking yourself how exactly I'm related to these four-and Splinter. Well, no-one really ever brings the story of my 'adoption' up, mostly because Master Splinter refuses to talk about it and my brothers just accept that a girl with stripy pale blonde hair and grey eyes is their sister. Vice versa, I accept four mutant ninja turtles as my brothers. It's really all any of us have ever known, so we don't question it.

All I know about my biological parents is that they left me to die when I was a baby, in an alleyway outside where Splinter was tending to four other reject kids. Nothing else. Sometimes I wish I could remember my mother, though. Did she have grey eyes and blonde hair? Did she like to sing softly to herself when she read? Did she love carnations, especially in summertime?

Did she really want to give me up?

I shoved the thoughts abruptly out of my mind as I pulled on the black Dauntless T-Shirt I'd gotten off a market stall for a quarter-I was nuts about Divergent and couldn't wait to read Insurgent, the sequel-and a pair of ripped jeans. Actually ripped, not the kind you get in a store. Ripped from rooftop fights, freerunning, and training. They'd fall apart if I wore them for much longer. I wasn't in much of a hurry today-I had to be in school by half eight, and it was only fifteen minutes walk away. Usually I'd get up at about quarter past seven and be on my way by eight.

I was thinking over this and algebraic equations when a chill suddenly passed through me. Sure, I lived in a sewer and it could get pretty cold down here when Raph forgets it's his turn to switch the heating on, but this was different. I don't think the cold can make you shudder as if somebody has just walked over your grave.

Something bad was going to happen. I just knew it.

. . . . . . .

"_Storm...Storm..._Storm!"

I snapped out of my daydream. My best friend Anya was waving her hand in front of my face. I shook my head, irritated. "Anya, what have I told you about doing that?" She grinned cheekily, batting her eyelashes.

"Oh, you know you love me," she giggled. I do, it's true. I absolutely _adore _Anya Matthews, and have done ever since she pitched up in kindergarten wearing a miniskirt that reached her little ankles and kitten heels. While I'm chewing my lip, she reapplies fresh red lipstick to hers, with 'just the slightest hint' of clear gloss. She does her best to look like Joan from Mad Men and I have to say, she succeeds. Lush curves I'm sure aren't legal in a sixteen year old, perfect, flawless creamy skin, make-up that's never had to be employed to cover things up. She even dyes her hair a deep coppery red and puts it up in a 70s curled bun, a little strange with skinny jeans and a cartoon-print T-shirt, but somehow it works. Anya was voted sexiest in our class last year and she was only a freakin' sophomore! "How'd you think you did?"

"Good. But God, I _hate_ Math," I replied fervently. Oh yeah, not only is my best friend gorgeous, she's the smartest person I know. Other than Donny, of course. She can't hold a candle to him.

Now our last exam was over and winter vacation was here, we were hanging out at our favourite coffee shop-the Starbucks two blocks away from the manhole that lead to the lair. I'd already told Leo I'd be home late, and darkness was falling quickly now. I stuck the straw of my iced coffee (oh, I'm sorry, mocha frappuccino) in my mouth, toying with the idea of drinking rather than actually doing it.

"Me too. Hey, did you hear Taylor McCartney's boyfriend cheated on her with Hayley Adams?"

"Really? Well, if I were her I'd be glad to be rid of that prick." I fiddled with a strand of my hair that had fallen away from its fluffy ponytail. Anya slapped my hand away. "Hey!"

"Quit playing with your hair. I just got it perfect. Has anyone ever told you you look like Avril Lavigne?"

"No, because I don't."

"You do! Though you should have streaked it pink and green rather than blue and green. It looks like sea water."

"Mm."

"Will you let me put some makeup on you? You'll look great if you outline your eyes with blue and put on a little mascara, maybe some lipgloss-"

"I'm okay."

"You're not. Storm Hamato, what is up today? You're all distracted, and you're not even listening whenever I speak to you. Is everything all right?" I smiled ruefully.

"Yeah. I'm just tired. I need to go to the bathroom."

"Go quickly then-I still didn't get to tell you properly about Taylor and Mark."

I wasn't even lying. I wastired, as if I'd read a two thousand page book nonstop and not gone to sleep for six days afterwards. Splashing cold water, or rather lukewarm water because Starbucks restrooms aren't exactly fancy and the taps often spray out the wrong temperature of water to what they're supposed to, I checked my reflection in the mirror to see how bad the bags under my eyes were. They weren't deep or bright purple, but they were still noticeable. Ah, well, I wasn't what you'd call Miss Universe anyway.

I was a pretty average height for my age, and skinny, with no breasts really to speak of. My skin was too pale to be the California girl tan boys hankered after, and I hated girls who plastered fake tan onto their skin and ended up looking like genetically engineered oranges. My hair _was_ naturally blonde (albeit my use of hair dye to streak green and blue into it), but it usually did whatever it wanted, hence my getting agitated and just scraping it back into a ponytail-which wasn't too flattering to my oval shaped face, with its too-angular nose and average sized lips. The only things I did find pretty about myself were my defined cheekbones and my wide, partially slanted eyes, which were the colour of the storm clouds that gathered during a particularly violent hurricane. Other than that I wasn't who you'd think of if you tried to picture a beautiful girl. I didn't wear makeup; I never tried with what I wore, and if I even touched my hair with a straightener it frizzed up on purpose just to spite me.

Grumbling to myself about the marks under my eyes, I made my way back out of the bathroom. Anya sighed when she saw me; rolling her own huge green eyes outlined with purple, and half smiled. Her expression changed when she checked her watch absentmindedly. "Shit! Six o' clock already? Mom's gonna kill me!" she whimpered. "I gotta go. See you Tuesday!"

"I should probably go too. See ya, Anya!" She hugged me tight and ran as fast as she could out the door in skyscraper stilettos while every boy (even ones with their girlfriends) and every man (even weird married ones) stared after her. Now do you see what I mean about her? She's irresistible-she should probably be a lawyer someday. I grabbed my bag from where it was sitting by the chair I'd inhabited earlier, took the rest of my drink to go and walked out too; leaving a tip on the table, jamming the cool earphones Donny had made for my last birthday into my ears. Thankfully no creepy old men stared at my ass this time.

The icy cold winds of Manhattan at winter bit through my thin Red Sox hoodie, forcing me to shudder. I got a couple of dirty looks from two kids who were obviously Yankees supporters (judging by the baseball caps and sweaters with the New York Yankees logo emblazoned on them) and stuck out my tongue in response. I get enough of that from my guy friend, Simon, who is the Yankees' number one fan and is never caught without his baseball cap on, even in bed. Seriously. Evanescence crooned in my ear about playgrounds and rainclouds just as a light snow began to fall from the weak crimson coloured sky. The manhole was in my sights; just a little further down the alleyway and I'd be doing the home stretch towards my brothers, my Sensei and the stack of pizza Mikey would have gotten-

_**Whack**_. Lights out...

. . . . . . .

_Leonardo_

I shouldn't have been worried. There was no reason to worry. Storm was smart, a skilled ninja and armed with a slim Japanese longbow and small cache of arrows concealed on her person, at all times (I made sure of that). It wasn't much good for close combat fighting, and whenever that threatened she'd use a single katana blade like April or use the age-old defence of a snap kick, but even so... She'd said she'd be home by half six, seven at the latest, but it was now ten past seven and she was nowhere to be found.

I chewed my lip. Forty minutes or ten, it was troubling me. Raph's eyes were glancing furtively from the TV towards the clock in the kitchen every now and then, and Donny wasn't his usual cheery self either. Even Mikey's slice of pizza was paused midway towards his mouth. When any one of us was gone no-one's muscles loosened until they were back. We were each of us in danger at all times we were outside the lair.

After another ten minutes, I went to Donatello.

"Don, can you trace Storm's cell phone? I'm going out looking for her," I muttered.

"Sure. You think something's really wrong?" he asked.

"She called to say she'd be home at half six. She's an hour late-something's gotta be wrong." Donny quickly ran the software, and to my surprise, sighed in relief.

"She's just outside the front door. Are you going to go topside and get her?"

"She'll be fine." I was exasperated now; she'd kept us worried while she was talking to her friends. I turned my back.

"Wait a minute." Oh, no. "She's not moving. Not at all. You're right, there's something very suspicious about this. Get Raph and Mikey; I think we'll have to check this out." Donny's deep green eyes behind his purple mask were filled with concern. "I hope she's okay."

"Me too, bro. Me too," I whispered. Then I raised my voice. "Mikey, Raph. We're going topside. Grab your weapons."

Usually, the two of them would be grinning and running for their weapons excitedly in anticipation of kicking Foot ninja butt, but now they were fidgety and anxious. Well, Raph wasn't. He had a grim look in his eyes that meant he was going to do bad things to whoever had hurt his family. Very bad things. Master Splinter watched us from across the room. He did not look concerned or worried, or angry. He merely looked sad, as if he feared the worst and was grieving. I closed my eye. '_Hamato Storm, if you're pulling a prank you are in such trouble it's unbelievable._'

However, we found that wasn't the case. Storm's cell phone was cracked and broken, laying in the alley, as was her bag. And the thing that made my heart sink the most-her bow was snapped in two, her arrows discarded in the dirt, the green wrappings caked with dirt.

Raph was the first to pick the cell phone up, his face twisting into a look angrier than I'd ever seen. "No-one messes with my little sis. No-one," he growled.

"Whoever took Storm knew she had trackers on her. Only the electrical items she had on her are gone." I showed him the ruined weapons silently, tears I was too proud to cry blurring my vision. His own eyes brimmed over and he wiped the tears away quickly. "No. There's some kind of mistake, there's got to be a mistake. Storm wouldn't let go of her bow unless-unless..." His normally calm, collected voice trailed away to nothing.

"Unless she had to," I finished for him. Mikey looked to me for help, close to tears too. He'd always relied on me for a plan, for guidance. They all did.

Raph was the only one who wasn't crying at all. His angry expression grew hard, his eyes narrowing. "We're going to look for her. Then we're going to give the ones who hurt her a world of pain."

"Raphael," I said sharply. He rounded on me.

"What? You know you want to hurt them back. They can't get away with hurting our family, Leo! I ain't gonna stand back and let them!"

"They won't. I promise they won't. But she could be miles away. We need to know where to start looking."

"Let's see here. Who hates us and wants to destroy us?" His voice was bitter. I bowed my head.

If Storm was in the Shredder's clutches there was no chance she'd come back unscathed.

. . . . . . .

_Storm_

White light clouded my eyes. I blinked slowly, once, twice. I went to stretch, then woke up quickly.

Shackles bound me to a table in a white room.

My eyes widened. "What the...holy ninja! Let me out! LET ME THE HELL OUT!" I yelled, thrashing violently and trying to sound as brave as I could. The one door that led from this clean, sterile nightmare into the real world opened. A familiar voice sounded.

"She's awake," Dr. Stockman announced casually.


	2. I Want Out!

I do not own TMNT. At all. Whatsoever. 

**Chapter Two**

_Storm_

Well. First instinct-get myself out of my bonds and kick what passed for Stockman's butt so hard it was unbelievable.

Second instinct-start crying because I was now so afraid of what he might do to me. However, I went with the typical-

"What are you going to do to me, you asshole?! Let me out of here, right now, or you are going to be very sorry when I actually do find my way out," I threatened. One major problem. Neither scenario was going to work, and I knew this. My voice wavered.

"As you can see, there is no way out," he replied. "I doubt I'll be that sorry for what I am going to do. I'm sorry for the pain it will cause you, but as you understand, I cannot use any other human."

"Why?" I cursed myself. The worst question I could have asked. Moron! Stockman considered this.

"If you think I am doing this to get a small amount of revenge on my own part, well, you'd be right. But there is something special, in your blood and DNA, that if I can access and activate it, you could become very special indeed. Tell me, has your 'Sensei'-" he said this in a tone dripping with sarcasm- "Ever told you about your parents?"

"No. I didn't want to know."

"You might want to know now. This abnormality in your genetic makeup is hereditary. Storm, is it?"

"You know it is, Stockman. Let me _out_ of here."

"Not quite yet." He picked up a hypodermic needle and carried on. "Your parents were two of the finest warriors ever to grace this planet. Their names were Alex and Rhea Westward. They died shortly after the birth of their first child-you. They died because of wounds sustained while they were fighting whom you know as the Shredder." I yelled out in frustration. The Shredder had killed my parents?! Why? God, again with the why. "In their last will and testament, they asked that their daughter, Storm Westward, be given to an old friend of theirs, one they trusted. The rat."

"Don't you call him that! You don't even have the right to speak his name!"

"May I have silence please? Thank you. So, we have come full circle. Wait, not quite-I haven't even explained how unique you are." He turned to face me, enjoying the look of primal, raw fear in my eyes. "You are one of the few remaining on this world that has been born with the ability to change your physical body into an animal's. I'm not turning you into a monster. I'm merely _accelerating_ the speed at which your ability to turn into one switches itself on in your brain, which has lain dormant since the day you were born. It would have activated itself sooner or later, but I thought I'd try sooner." Stockman filled the syringe with clear blue fluid.

I struggled, but didn't give him the satisfaction of a scream. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm nothing special," I panted.

"Quite to the contrary. You are one of only three of your species that I can actually find. Now, this might sting." I got as far away from him as I could. Two centimetres.

"What the hell are you-" He jabbed the needle into my shoulder and pressed the plunger down, giving me my answer. White hot, burning agony flashed through me, and I couldn't help it this time. I screamed in pain. The serum he had injected into me raced like wildfire through my veins. It must have been mixed with some sedative, because soon after that, I blacked out for the second time.

. . . . . .

_Donatello_

Morning probably cast its first tentative rays outside, while inside the lair, I was awake. I had been since last night. My latest drained cup of coffee stood as a testament to this. Mikey had conked out about fifteen seconds after we had gotten back to the lair. Leo and Raph had tried to stay awake to help me run a trace on any Internet or cell phone activity Storm had done in the past 24 hours.-which obviously turned up nothing. I was beginning to despair. Of course, her cell was smashed beyond repair, and she probably had no access to the Internet, but I had to _hope_. What else could I do?

My gaze fell on her bag. I hadn't thought about looking through it before now. The rough black canvas fabric was studded with button badges and decorated all over with correction fluid doodles. Carefully, I opened the two buttons that held the cover flap to the satchel. A collection of items, fussily put away in pouches, and several textbooks took up the space inside. I removed a tatty copy of _Hamlet_, catching my breath. It was so well thumbed the spine almost broke in my hands. I remembered when it had been new, at the beginning of her Junior year just four months ago. Storm had been so engrossed in the book, so captured by the magic of William Shakespeare...It had taken her two consecutive days to struggle through it. Raph had teased her endlessly afterwards, joking that I was supposed to be the geek of the family. I closed my eyes.

"Donatello?" I glanced over my shoulder, seeing Leo standing there, head slightly to one side, looking concerned. "Did you sleep?" I shook my head, swallowing reflexively.

"No." He sighed.

"We will find Storm. Go to bed; you sleep depriving yourself isn't going to help anyone."

"But-"

"Donatello Hamato, bed. _Now_." I opened my mouth to protest, then decided against it and smiled weakly, heading off towards the room I shared with Mikey.

He was snoring away fitfully, his covers falling onto the floor-as usual. I dragged them back over him and burrowed under my own purple comforter, staring up at the ceiling. Have you ever heard my brother Michelangelo snore? That combined with a missing family member is enough to keep anyone awake. I closed my eyes.

. . . . . .

_Storm_

The days were starting to blur together. A mixture of injections, check-ups, and runs around the closed-off, windowless gym. They weren't looking after me in any way. Stockman and Agent Bishop insisted I be kept healthy or woe betide anyone who'd allowed my condition to deteriorate.

Over what I thought was the past week, strange things had been happening to me-just little things, but they freaked me out and scared me. My vision had started to become sharper, and I was beginning to be able to see well in the dark. I could hear things like a sheet of paper falling to the floor outside my cell, a beetle scurrying across the concrete, a whispered conversation held two rooms away about the air quality here. Scents came easily...what was happening to me?

The cell door was thrown open, and the glaring white light blinded me for the billionth time. I was dragged out, handcuffed and taken to the exam room, where for the first time both Bishop and Stockman waited for me. I frowned as I was held down and chained to the table. "Thanks for the welcome party," I muttered.

"You'd think her spirit would be broken already. A few days in a cell is enough to turn hardened men into stuttering fools," Stockman remarked.

"Get on with it," Bishop ordered. "I don't have all day. What progress have you made?"

"She's very close now. I give it another two weeks before she is able to change, another three days after that before we will be able to control her."

"What makes you so sure I'll submit?" I asked through gritted teeth. Damn, they were getting on my nerves.

"Oh, I think you'll find I have plenty of reasons. After all, the acceleration serum isn't the only thing I've been giving you." _That_ sounded ominous. I gulped. He began to check me over, looking in my eyes, at my teeth. I felt like a horse at a county fair way back when. He chuckled to himself. "Make those two weeks one. All we have to do is try to trigger it now. My theory should be correct." I strained against the bonds. I was surprised to find that this time after days of efforts that the links were stretching. Just a bit more...

"Sedate her! She's going to break free!"

Ah, shell. Now or never, I guess.

I pulled, hard, forcing the links to break. Escape time now, freak out time later. "GET THE GIRL! I NEED HER!" came from behind me. Sprinting as fast as I could, I got out of the door, but now down the corridor...which way? My cell was to the right, so by power of deduction it was probably left, so I fishtailed around and ran faster than greased lightning in that direction, barely breaking a sweat. '_How do you feel now about making me run laps_?' I thought smugly. I turned a corner, and I saw the most beautiful thing I'd seen in my life. A door! I would have gotten down on my knees and cried like a baby if it hadn't been for the Goons in Black chasing me down the corridor.

As soon as I felt the fresh night air on my cooped-up-and-experimented-on skin, I was filled with a new energy. I was going home! I was going to see my brothers, my father! FREEDOM-

That was when I felt the dart in my back.

Damn, I was sick of this.

It's kind of a short chapter because the next one is super long and explains a lot.


End file.
